


Of Rooks and Pawns

by Intomniac



Category: Assassin's Creed, Jacob Frye - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, Control, F/M, Jacob Frye - Freeform, Original Female Character - Freeform, Smut, assassins creed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intomniac/pseuds/Intomniac
Summary: A woman from a rival gang seeks help from the Rooks and their leader. Will she prove to merely be a pawn? Will she bring about the end of the Rooks? Or will she prove to be a valuable treasure to the lead Raven?





	1. Ricochet

**Elle’s Point of View** **  
** The flag billowing in the breeze above was an almost muted sound compared to the resounding gunshots. I could hear bullets ricocheting off the stone walls around me and I ducked down further, head against my knees as I trembled and rocked where I'd been left, tied and tasseled. My arms were tied behind my back and My knees and ankles were bound together, I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might explode as I waited for the inevitable pain that would come from being hit.   
  


There was a blast of heat and sharp wood sprayed the side of my face, making me wince as I smelled burning hair and felt hot shards of wood stick to my face, no doubt splinters imbeding themselves in my skin.   
  


I hissed in pain and jerked away from the source of heat, only to realize a chunk of the flag pole I was tied to had been shot away and it was creaking above me precariously. I stilled, and for the first time in my life considered praying. I closed my eyes as I felt the pole begin to shift forward, and I felt my eyes burn as they blurred with tears.    
  


I was going to be crushed. That's what I got. I deserved it for turning on my brother.    
  


At the last minute a blade sliced through the ropes at my wrists and I was jerked to the side as the pole fell. It collapsed with an earth shattering boom, and silence fell over us as I nearly lost control of my bladder and my stomch where I sat, the tears falling as I sagged in the hold of whoever had saved me. The flag that had been waving in the air fluttered down to the ground, covering me and I looked around slowly.   
  


The small team of blighters my brother had sent looking for me when I'd run away were all dead on the ground. I shivered at the empty, lifeless looks in their eyes as they lay bleeding in the dirt. Thunder rolled above us and the skies opened up with a crackle that electrified the air as the torrent began. The hand gripping the ropes around my shoulders started to pull me upright and I looked at the hand and followed it up a blood soaked sleeve to see Jacob gazing down at me from beneath his hat, his expression solemn. "It's time to go." He said as he cut me free, solemn expression breaking until he was grinning like a madman.   
  


As I pulled the flag around me to hide my embarrassment at having lost control of myself in my fear, I saw movement. A hand rose slowly from a pool of blood, shakily aiming the gun. It was like everything was moving in slow motion; then I realized it was a distraction. "N-" There was no time. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the true assailant. Jacob had pulled his gun and was aiming at the shaky hand, and there was someone lunging towards us from his flank. I did the first thing that crossed my mind... 

**Jacob's Point of View**

_ That little tart!  _ I couldn't quite help my shock as she leaned into me, sliding her hand down my arm, sliding her knee along the inside of my leg... Then her foot hooked mine, her hand slipped beneath my loose grip on my cane and she  shoved me right off my feet. As I fell, her wrist twisted, releasing the blade from it's disguised sheath and her torso twisted in a way that caused her pain; I could see it in her eyes. 

I was about to reprimand her, inform her she would regret her actions, but instead of rounding on me as I'd expected her to, she swung the blade in an arc and blood filled my peripheral and as my head turned to look behind me, I saw the man who'd rounded us.

 

It was easy to see the family resemblance. Despite the fairness of her skin, he had the same angry red mane of hair, the shocking green eyes, and the pepper of freckles across his prominent cheekbones. Her lithe, dainty figure still knew a fighter's stance, one they both shared.    
  


"You traitor!" he snarled at her. She didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't waver in the intensity of her brother's glare. He wavered for a moment, then collapsed, and as his knees hit the ground, a shot rang out and I watched in utter shock as she too fell, and there was a clatter of metal against stone as the gun we'd both forgotten dropped from the lifeless hand.   
  


I caught her, rising slightly as she fell towards me, laying her thin form along the collapsed beam that had held the flag above us. She'd saved my life. She'd killed her brother.    
  


She had escaped the Blighters' grasp and had come to warn me of the impending ambush that would have destroyed half of my Rooks, and left London in turmoil as the Blighters ran free. I swept her hair back, looking down into her pale bruised face, red and hot to the touch where splinters were embedded beneath her skin.    
  


"Rose Red... Hang in there." I said softly, wishing her green eyes would open and glare at me defiantly like I'd become accustomed to the last few days she'd spent with our gang.

**Elle's Point of View**

I exhaled slowly, shakily. "Still bossy as ever." I accused. The shot had caught me in the shoulder, and it was lodged beneath my collarbone, having struck me from the side and the pain was enough to make me nauseous. I was tired, in pain, and there was a deep seated sorrow in my heart because even with my eyes closed, I could still see his angry, hateful gaze giving way into pain, and sliding into fear and despair. My brother. I'd killed my brother.   
  


We'd never been close, not even as kids. We'd always functioned by the philosophy that blood was thicker than water, and to my brother, blood was law. Laws were made to be broken among the Blighters, and while he never touched me in a way that would be untoward where blood was prevalent; he was never shy at showing his disapproval or punishing me. When I came home from the mission that had killed our father and led to my brother's rise, he blamed me, and threw me to the men who served him to teach me my place.   
  


After that, my allegiance to blood gave way to my allegiance to my city.   
  


My mother was a good woman who fell in love with a bad man. Even though she died when I was little, I'd known all my life, she didn't want this life for me. She was a waitress who got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and she was a God Fearing, King and Queen loving woman, she never wanted anything but peace and safety for my brother and I... but she died at the hands of a man who served our father the night she tried whisking my brother and I away from the man who ruled the chaos. 

 

Now, as I lie bleeding, slipping into the undertow, I could almost hear her soft voice, whispering a quiet lullaby in the fading light of the evening. The hard surface of the beam left my back and for a moment I felt like I was weightless and floating; then I registered his arms carrying me.

  
As the pain swelled from my chest, up my neck to merge with the radiating pain in my cheek, I lost consciousness, the last thing to pass through my conscious mind was the quiet, " _ Hell. _ " He whispered above my head. 

 

**Jacob's Point of View**

She was mumbling incoherently. The bullet path was hard to gauge, but since she wasn't coughing up blood or wheezing, I had high hopes that the shot hadn't done irreparable damage. The idea that she might die before I could thank her, show her that she'd earned my trust, that she deserved a place among us, was unsettling. I looked into eyes so like my own as my sister laid a hand on my shoulder and urged that we go. I looked down, she had picked up my Cane from where the girl had dropped it. 

 

I lifted the flag from where it had crumpled and I wrapped it around the young woman, lifting her into my arms and carrying her towards the alley through which we'd planned to exit. I was by no means allowing her to die. The Rooks had a good enough medic, I just had to hope she would last long enough for us to get there.

 

**Elle's Point of View**

I don't remember much besides the pain. The pain as they tried to follow the path of the bullet, and the hands that held me down to keep me from disrupting the work of our good doctor. I remember the taste of the leather wrapped piece of wood that they put between my teeth as they worked, and the darkness of the cover over my eyes. But the clearest memory was the hand that stroked through my hair slowly, soothingly, until my breathing matched the pace of the fingers gliding through my tresses, and I lost consciousness as the drugs they'd plunged into my system through the vein in my neck began to take effect.

 

**Jacob's Point of View**

I couldn't do anything to ease her pain except order them to use some of the limited supply of anesthesia we had in stock. Supplies were running low, especially with the encounters we'd been having time and again with those damnable  **Blighters.** We would have lost the fight had that ambush come. She had saved me, and she had saved my Rooks. We'd doubled our defenses, covered the exits and ambushed our own ambush. The utter audacity of it had taken them by surprise. Especially when they took the bait, the Boss' sister sitting in the center waiting to be "rescued."

 

It had all been going swimmingly really, until we heard what they were planning to do to her. Some of them had even been so stupid as to think they were safe enough in the alley to try it then. We attacked a bit prematurely, and her brother arrived with a second team, but by then the first group had been demolished and we were celebrating the win. We'd had a few injuries with the second wave but no casualties... I eyed the girl on the table as her struggles started to slow, and her breathing calmed.  _ No casualties... yet.  _ I'd be damned if I was going to allow one now without a fight.

 

I watched Doc make a cut near the sternum and he felt around the new wound for a moment before making a sound of recognition. Grabbing his forceps, I watched as he extracted the bullet and a few small bone shards. The bullet had been slowed when it grazed her rib cage and it's ricochet up towards her heart had been stopped by the small bone plate between her breasts. A few inches lower it would have passed right between her ribs and under the plate through her heart, the doc said. 

 

She'd still lost a lot of blood, but as he sewed her up, there was a distinct flicker of hope for Rose Red.  _ Hold on there, Ellie. _


	2. Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking from the dark can be such sweet sorrow; but so too it can bring hope. Trust can be a tricky thing, but it would seem bonds, once made, can be invaluable.

**Elle's Point of View**

When I started to wake, I registered warmth and comfort. I was in a soft bed under a blanket that smelled like leather, polish, gunpowder, but also grass, rain and musk. My head was swimming and I couldn't think straight. My eyes fluttered opened a few times, but my lids were so heavy. My mouth was dry, and it felt like my lips were glued shut from the degree of cotton mouth I was experiencing.

 

There was a dull throbbing in my chest, and side but it wasn't excruciating. I stirred and the pain increased enough to make me hiss. I tried to sit up but there was something heavy around my waist and I struggled once again to open my eyes. I saw a bare arm wrapped around my midriff and I slowly followed the length of it with my eyes to a shoulder and up a neck into a mass of dark hair. I stiffened and fell still, then the head connected to the arm turned and half lidded eyes gazed at me groggily. "Don't tear your stitches. Be still." He said with a tone that was fogged with half shaken slumber and an attempt at a stern tone.   
  


I warred with the indecision, listen to him and actually give my poor body  break from constant damage and stress, or slip away slowly when he fell asleep. I could tell I was dressed. The shirt was unfamiliar, and the pants fit comfortably, but I could tell by the material my fingers were touching on my thigh that the pants were definitely not mine.   
  


"You  **_undressed_ ** me? Taking advantage of me while I was  **_sleeping_ ** !?" I hissed, my mouth feeling fuzzy and weird as I tried to talk. Despite my obvious wrath, he had the gall to laugh. "My  **_sister_ ** dressed you. I just slept with you." His words made me squeak and squirm away, which had him laughing harder. He sat up, showing his was merely shirtless but still in pants, and he put a hand on my shoulder, pushing me down into the bed. I fought against him, rage burning hot.    
  


" **_Easy. You are going to hurt yourself. That's enough._ ** " He said firmly. "I might be a scoundrel, but I'm still a gentleman. I would never do that to a wounded, sleeping woman." He paused, gazing at me sincerely. "Especially not one who saved my life." He murmured.

 

**Jacob's Point of View**

The days went on much like that first. She slept in my bed where she was safest, and she slowly began to heal. Both from her wounds, and from her trauma. She'd slept almost three days undisturbed after the event that nearly took her life. When she came to in my bed that morning, I was so relieved I could not help but jest. I'd spent those three days at her side, part of me wondering if I would wake to a dead woman if I allowed myself rest.

To this day, I must admit I am still relieved.

She spent some time training with Evie as a form of rehabilitation, to keep herself sharp. My sister went easy on her in a way she never did with our Rooks. They were similar in size and build, though Rose Red was a little more dainty, and a bit shorter than Evie. I couldn't help the way my eyes trailed after her every time she passed.

She had chosen to come to us. To Warn us.  **_Join_ ** us. She had shed blood for my life, and I knew from the moment I held her bleeding form in my arms I would do anything to keep her alive. To possess her and make her mine.

I heard a sound from behind me that pulled me from the book in my lap; one that I was writing in, and my quil stilled. I set down the glass of wine and turned to gaze at her. She looked stunning really, her long red curls dancing around her waist, her narrow middle accented by a leather harness with a number of belts and straps hanging from it for pouches and weapons. She wore a shirt with billowing sleeves, it was easily long enough to reach her thighs, making it look like a tunic over the leather pants that fit her like a second skin.

Her boots reached her knees and the vest she borrowed from Evie was long enough to cover her backside, but it stopped at the waist in the front. She was a pleasant sight. "Problem?" I asked, brow lifted.

" **_Actually,_ ** " she started, quirking her own brow, "I thought it was time we had a talk."

I watched her curiously, it was hard to deny my fascination. It had been a few weeks since the ambush, her stitches were out and she didn't wince when she moved.

"Talk it is, then," I pulled my feet down from the desk, poured a second glass of wine and I stood, handing her the glass. "By all means, make yourself comfortable."


	3. Trust and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once the bond has been made and trust is established, sometimes, Love comes along and surprises you.

**Reader's Point of View**

Elle's eyes lit up as he turned to her with the second glass of wine and she took it in nimble fingers, bringing it to her dark red lips, sipping from the pale fluid. "I owe you my life." She said finally after a heavy, thoughtful silence. 

Jacob scoffed in disbelief, looking at her incredulously. "How hard did you hit your head when you fell? You took a bullet saving my life!" He barked, not angry with her, but beside himself with how she could think she owed him. 

Her eyes softened, "You don't understand-" she started, but he cut her off. He set his wine aside, "Clearly, perhaps you should explain." He said in a rush, sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing her darkly. 

"I'm trying, you keep interrupting me." She retorted with a lifted brow. 

"Don't sass me, Rose Red. I'm waiting to hear your story." He made a gesture, sweeping his arm out to suggest she sit in the seat he'd vacated.

Green eyes rolled and she stuck out her tongue, but slowly she sank into his vacated chair, facing him and leaning back, crossing one leg over the other, the leather whispering as her legs rubbed together. "So, it kinda started when I was a kid. My mom. She tried to leave with my brother and I, my father had become a tyrant and the Blighters were growing and she didn't want us in such a dangerous environment. Long story short, my brother sold her out to our father and he killed her for trying to leave, and trying to take his children. I was seven. Ten years later, I went on a mission with dear old Dad, he got killed. I came home, and my brother beat me until I was too weak to move, then he threw me to his men, and they had their way with me until I was nearly comatose. It took me months to recover. It's been three years." she said darkly.

His eyes had darkened like stormy seas. "He's dead and gone now. So are all the men who touched you." and there was no mistaking the tone of his voice; if they hadn't been, he'd have hunted them down, one by one. 

"Thanks to you." she said softly. "When you cut me free... I thought I was going to die... and when I killed him, and watched him fall dead in front of me, I thought, 'I'll finally have some peace...' and when I was shot, I thought that was it. I thought that I was a goner. You don't get it. I was ready to die." she said softly. "My brother and all the people who'd ever hurt me, who'd ever loved me, everyone was dead. Is... Dead. I wanted to die."

He swallowed as he rose, moving towards her slowly, taking the hand holding her glass of wine as it began to tremble.

"Not Everyone." he said quietly. 

"I'm glad I was wrong." She whispered.

As they locked eyes, he set the wine aside, then he pulled her smaller frame into him, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. "You have Value. You belong here. You are a Rook now, and we'll never let you go. Not without a fight." 

Then, he kissed her. 

Hard. Deep. Sensually, pouring the weeks of passion that had been building up inside of him into the touch of his lips. The heat between them grew and soon she was clinging to him, weak-kneed, and he was smirking against her lips. 

"I've wanted to do that for some time now."

She laughed a husky, throaty laugh, "Shut up and do it again."

So He Did.

The kiss was only the beginning. Over the following weeks, sweet, burning kisses and slow lingering touches grew and blossomed into even more. 

 

Elle didn't really understand the gravity of Jacob's efforts to go slow with her, or how hard it was for him to be gentle. But he persevered for her, and as her trust and love grew for him, so did her passion and need for him. 

 

One day, as she sat on the balcony railing of their newest acquired stronghold, Evie approached her. The little girl on her lap, one of the child laborers they'd recently freed, hopped down from her arms to scurry off and the younger woman turned to greet her lover's twin. 

 

"Evie, to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, an amicable, though cautious smile on her face. She and Evie got along quite well, but they were also cautious of each other; Ellie because trust came hard for her, and Evie because she was concerned for her brother and the hold this girl seemed to have on him. However, Evie was remarkably certain Jacob was happier than she'd seen him in a long time, and she didn't want that to change.

 

"I just wanted to see how you were. This was your first big mission. Jacob will be very proud of you when he hears how well you did with us today." The older of the women replied, looking relaxed as she leaned against the railing the younger still perched on. "You think so?" she asked, trying not to look as pleased as she actually felt. 

 

"I'm quite certain. He'll be eager to celebrate." Evie confirmed, nodding. A lulled silence fell between them and Ellie swallowed as something tugged at the back of her mind. "Can... I ask you something?" She asked hesitantly, her facade of emboldened confidence faltering as she let some insecurity through. 

 

Evie turned patient eyes to her. "I can't promise I'll have the answer you're looking for, but ask away." She replied easily. 

 

"I... well. Jacob has seemed... restless... lately. I mean... we've been... err, intimate... and he's always been very careful... but afterwards.. he seems more frustrated than... satisfied." She blushed a dark color. "I've heard stories, from other rooks, about what he's usually like... in bed. It's very different from how we've been..."

 

Evie smirked. The girl wasn't quite as naive as she might have thought. "He's afraid of hurting you, or frightening you away, I'd guess. He doesn't want you to see the darker side of his needs because of what you've been through." 

 

Evie's delicate shoulders rose and fell in a hapless shrug, "That's just a guess... All I can truthfully, definitively tell you is that Jacob is different with you than he's ever been with any woman... His affection for you runs deeper than I ever believed capable... My brother is not a man who loves easily... Do not ever doubt the lengths he would go to for your happiness or wellbeing... Even, perhaps, at the cost of his own." She tucked her hands in her pockets, looking down at the alleyway below. 

 

Evie lightly bumped shoulders with Elle, giving her a small smile. "I shall see you about, little sister. Well done on proving your worth as a Rook... and a Frye." Leaving the younger girl beaming and misty eyed, she wandered down towards the floors below to make sure the children were being well cared for and relocated to a safehouse until their families were found. At least, those With families.

 

Elle watched her go, then jumped down from the balcony to land lightly on her feet below, heading down the alley, whistling softly. She made her way to a store nearby to purchase some items that would come in handy for her newest "mission", and then she headed back towards their home base.

 

Later that night, Jacob realized that among the revellers, his littlest rook was missing. He went in search of her and eventually found a marked trail leading to the room where they first kissed. His curiosity got the better of him and he followed the trail. Along the way he picked up a coil of black silk rope, leather manacles, a blindfold, a crop, and then one by one, a piece of her clothing. 

 

By the time he reached the room, he realized what was about to happen and his body was already growing taught with the anticipation. He tossed his hat aside as he passed through the door, and he turned to look at the bed, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her. 

 

She was dressed in delicate black silk underthings, with alluring laces that crossed over her chest and brought her breasts together deliciously. The collar around her neck stirred something primal in him and the lace knee high stockings and sheer robe garment cast delicious shadows across her pale, freckled skin. Her bright eyes adorned with a subtle, pastel mint seemed to glow in the dim candlelight, and her red hair with it’s numerous tones of gold and flaxen sunlight was braided loosely over her shoulder.

 

“Ellie…” The words fell from his lips breathlessly as he gazed over her and the things he had picked up on his way to the room, following her trail of gifts. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?” He groaned hoarsely, stepping closer, eyeing her intensely.

 

“Showing you that I trust you.” She whispered softly, love in her voice, a rasp hinting at a deeper emotion beneath it; passion and lust. Need. “Showing you that I Need you.” He shuddered at the tone of her voice and nearly moaned at the thought of her to submitting to him the way he'd craved her to for weeks. It was a deep part of him, control and dominance, and it seemed she had figured it out, in his more subtle behaviors. 

“You might regret this.” It was all he could think to utter; her last chance to back out. He wouldn’t think less of her for it… but if they continued on this path, he worried she would think less of him for the things he wanted to do to her. 

 

Her back arched and she turned her head away from him, her auburn braid falling over her shoulder, baring her speckled, slim back to him. “I have never regretted anything I have done in your name, Master Frye.” she murmured. The words sunk into him; the woman had given so much; her livelihood, she had killed her brother to save his life. There was so much connotation in that little phrase… and the sound of the word  _ Master _ on her lips brought the warmth of her love to a boiling heat that raced straight to his core and set his blood on fire. 

 

He moved closer, his hand held a tremor; whether it was anticipation or his careful restraint splintering, it was hard to say. He ran his hand over her braid lightly, fingers curling around the back of her neck, tipping her head back, his thumb beneath her chin, lifting her darkly painted lips up towards his. He claimed her lips in a kiss that started gentle and grew in heat and hunger; it held a promise to cherish what she was giving him, and to always keep her safe. “Put your hands on your knees, arse to heels. Shoulders back. Let me see what is mine.” There was a growl in his voice now; pitched low, rumbling in his barrel chest, barely more than a whisper. His voice made her tremble in delight and she did as she was told, adjusting her posture and sitting as he asked… no… Told. 

 

Her body betrayed her excitement with raised gooseflesh and stiffening nipples, standing at attention at the tip of her perky mounds. Her breasts rose and fell with her breath, deep, controlled, practiced. Her heart was pounding, but her racing blood was well disguised by her calm exterior.

 

She resisted the urge to turn to him as he moved around the other side of the bed out of sight and the anticipation in the air was palpable as she started to count the seconds ticking by. Her eyes closed as he moved in closer behind her and she listened to the rustle of clothing and the heavy ripple as his coat slid down his arms into a heap at his feet.

 

“Choose a safe word… something that let’s me know you can’t handle anymore. Something you won't forget,” He said quietly. He would be careful tonight, he would test her boundaries, her limits, but he wanted her to know she was still in control of how far things went. "Have you thought of one~?" He asked, a soft, singsong tone to his voice and she nodded, the word falling from her lips, "Eclipse."

 

 


End file.
